Yesterday was Moving Day. With the help of friends (hi, guys!) and multiple trips ferrying my things in a minivan and two cars, I got myself mostly moved out of the apartment I've been sharing with my eventual ex and her youngest son for the last two and half years. We decided to divorce in February. It's taken this long to make the break for various, mostly financial, reasons. But I have a new job (newly employed as an FTE employee, I'd been working under contract to hire since February). So, with a new job finally--it took a couple months longer than I'd expected/hoped--more money, and having finally found a place to live that is affordable and within relatively easy commuting distance of my job (and within walking distance of a number of stores), I moved out yesterday.

It was a long, exhausting day. As I write this, there's still plenty to do. Lots of boxes to unpack. More boxes to rescue from a storage unit eventually. Lots of stuff to buy over the next weeks and months to bring my half of the household split up to full power. But I'm out, and on my own. It's sad. But also a great relief for us all.

And I slept in a real bed for the first time in more than two years (I'd been camping out in the dining room all this time). It was glorious, especially given how tired all my muscles were. My new place is pretty spacious, and I intend to enjoy it very much after the clutter and cramped living of squeezing three people into a 2-bedroom apartment (while still in possession of too much of the stuff that formerly resided in a three-bedroom apartment, and before that a three-bedroom house).

There's probably a lot more to say, but it'll have to wait. I have things to do.

I have not been here much so I have missed much of the ... experiences you have been having.I hope things are as well between you as possible. You have been through much together. But I also hope you find this a time to fly high. I hope it gives you both more than you lose.